My Harelipped Angel
by corn-uwu
Summary: Just after learning he and Hassan were brothers, Amir reflects on what he could have done. He could have saved Hassan, or even saved their friendship. And, ultimately, Hassan's life. Why didn't he?
1. Chapter 1

Note: this fan fiction contains direct quotes from the book. I do not own any of the characters and but this is a fan fiction so I'm using direct quotes to make it accurate to the book. Rated T for mild profanity and violence which was in the book.

I slam the door behind me, my thoughts a scramble of pain and anger. All those years I knew I had a special connection with Hassan. All the years after he left that I regretted what I'd done to him. That night in the alleyway where I hid and watched Assef rape him. He was my brother.

My brother.

Throughout everything, Hassan was my half brother, my blood relative.

Everything I'd ever done to him. All the thoughts that went through my head. "He's just a Hazara." "He's not my friend, he's my servant!" The idea made me sick to my stomach. But, partially, I was not wrong. Hassan wasn't my friend. Hassan was my word. Hassan was and is my everything.

Tears flow through my eyes, stinging my face and blurring my vision. The salty taste of tears in the corners of my lips fills my mouth. But I don't try to stop. All in a fraction of a second, I see everything I could have done differently. I could have done something. Why didn't I do something? For the damn kite? It wasn't worth it. Because my greed that night lost me the brother who meant the world to me. And that blue kite doesn't serve as a trophy of our accomplishment that day. A trophy that would lead Baba to love me more, that he would look at an be proud of me. Back then, it may have been, but now when I looked at it, all I could see was Hassan, and his blood staining the winter snow, as he gave it to me. And all I can hear is my voice, feeding him dirty lies. And for what? What had I accomplished? What had I gained?

A temporary, fake love, a short-lived happiness that led to a life of regret.


	2. Chapter 2

I can remember it so distinctly. When your brain thinks you're in danger, everything becomes clearer, more memorable. Supposedly it's so you can prevent the situation again later in life. I disagree. I think our brains want us to be open, honest with ourselves in our few seconds left of life. Or in my case, innocence.

And just like that, there I am. Leaning against the wall, peering into the cluttered alley. Hassan is there, an innocent, defenseless child. Assef doesn't seem to care. Kamal and Wali, I could tell, were starting to realize this was going too far.

"Today is your lucky day, Hazara. I'm in a mood to forgive." Assef's words puzzle me, but not for long. I was a fool to think for a split second he would let Hassan go.

Kamal's forced, nervous reply startles me. "That's generous, especially after the rude manners he showed us last time."

I thought of the hill. The sun was reflecting off Assef's stainless steel brass knuckles. But Hassan was behind me, rock drawn back in his slingshot, ready to take Assef's eye out for me. Not for himself. He was ready to take on Assef for me.

"You're a lucky Hazara," Assef repeats. "Because today, it's only going to cost you that blue kite."

Hassan's reply makes my stomach drop. "Amir agha won the tournament and I ran this kite for him. This is his kite." The last four words strike me hard. I feel like Assef has just struck me in the stomach with his brass knuckles. It was my kite. He didn't care about whatever Assef was about to do to him. The next few words spin in my mind, and I shift all my weight onto the wall. My skin is tingling and adrenaline is surging through my veins. I see motion, but my vision is unclear. Hassan throws a rock at Assef, and Wali and Kamal pin him to the ground. I avert my eyes, but my fear is replaced with anger. My blood boils, and I suddenly don't care. I don't care that Assef will beat me until I forget who I am, until I forget why I'm letting him.

I leap forward and wrap my arm around his throat. He tugs at my arms and flings me off my feet, but I keep my grip. I can feel his pull getting gradually weaker, and eventually he slumps forward unconscious. I pant, staring at Assef in disbelief of what I just did. He is alive; I can see his chest slowly contracting and retracting. Wali and Kamal have long since fled, and I help up the stunned Hassan from the ground.

He reaches for the kite, but I pull him away from it. I pull him into my arms and I don't let go.

"Agha—"

I cut him off before he can finish. "Hassan, never go anywhere without me again." I am crying now, but so is Hassan. "I don't know what he could have done to you, but if I had found you dead or worse, I would have never forgiven myself."

Hassan rests his head on my shoulder. I don't push him away like I did when my father had other, non-Hazara kids around. I would never do that again.

The possibility of the situation floated in and out of my brain. I sob loudly. Why hadn't I saved Hassan? Because I was a coward. And after all, Hassan was just a Hazara. He didn't matter.

But he did matter. God, he mattered so much to me.


	3. Chapter 3

I remembered how for the weeks following his rape, Hassan hardly talked to me. Or rather, I hardly talked to him. I would go out of my way to avoid him, and if he was avoiding me, I was OK with it. But he wasn't. Hassan wanted us to stitch our friendship back together, to sew up the wounds Assef left and let them heal. Maybe we could teach Assef a lesson, even. Bring that old "one-eyed Assef" idea into reality.

But I was a selfish prick. The weeks I ignored Hassan sometimes (although not often) are harder for me to bear than the memory of the alleyway. At least in the alleyway, I had an excuse not to do what I should have, even if it was a sick, selfish, cowardly one. With this, all I had to do was talk to Hassan. All I had to do was talk to my best friend, my brother. But I didn't.

But before the memories of the months pass, I'm there.

I'm sitting in my room, reading. I'm reading a Farsi version of Ivanhoe. Then I hear it. Knock knock knock. I glance back at the door, and Hassan's voice comes ringing through the air.

"I'm going to the baker to buy naan, I was wondering if you—if you wanted to come along."

But instead of rolling my eyes and turning back to my book, I push it in front of me and stand up. I push my door open. Hassan is standing there, rocking on his heels; he looks slightly better than the last time I saw him, but he's still skinnier than he was, and there's a kind of sadness in his eyes. I don't know if it's because of what Assef did to him or because of what I did to him. But when he looks at me, it vanishes, and a smile replaces it.

"Ready?" He asks.

I try to force a smile, but I still regret what I did—or rather, didn't do. "Yes." I say eventually.

We walk outside and the sun beams down on me. I stare at Hassan as we walk down the road.

"Is everything alright agha?" He asks.

I look down. "I'm sorry Hassan."

He doesn't reply for a while. Eventually, he says, "You have nothing to apologize for."

I look up at him, my eyes swelling with tears. "Hassan, I watched Assef rape you and I did nothing, and I neglected you for weeks. I have everything to apologize for!"

His face turns pale and he stops walking. "Amir agha, I—" Hassan doesn't finish his sentence.

I sigh. "I just can't look at you without feeling so damn guilty about not doing anything, about sitting there watching. And for lying to everyone about it I—"

"Amir agha." When I meet his gaze I see his eyes are also filling with tears. "I understand. I just want things to go back to the way they were. I want you to forgive me."

I start crying harder. "Forgive you? Hassan, I want you to forgive me, but I know it won't be enough. I feel like I need to be punished for what I did."

Hassan smiles, and I can't believe how natural it looks. "You already punished yourself. Now you just need to forgive yourself."

I pull Hassan into a hug and rest my head on his shoulder. A cloud blocks the sun and we stay like that until it is gone. When I finally pull away, Hassan smiles at me.

But I reality, I didn't. I told Hassan to "stop harassing me." All he wanted to do was help me. He only wanted me to forgive him. He had done me no wrong, but I punished him for my own wrongdoing, and he only wanted things to go back to normal. I was such an arrogant fool, blinded by my own fear and regret to know what was best for me. For Hassan. For everyone.


	4. Chapter 4

Tears had soaked my shirt at this point, and above my upper lip was dry and crusted. My throat was soar from crying. Why hadn't I done anything? Even after the alleyway, I has more than one chance to redeem myself. Why hadn't I? Maybe if I had, my brother would still be alive. Maybe I wouldn't always feel so guilty whenever I think about him. Maybe he and his wife and son would be living with us happily in America. But I was a foolish and arrogant child, and now I had a dead brother,'dead sister-in-law, and a missing nephew


End file.
